


Netherworld Intern

by TheLuckOfTheClaws



Category: Beetlejuice (Cartoon 1989), Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Lydia dies, Suicide, Very Very Angsty, it ended up being kinda cute instead, it was originally going to be longer but i decided 'fuck it' and i'm posting it as it is, or at least i tried for it to be angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:13:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25366654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLuckOfTheClaws/pseuds/TheLuckOfTheClaws
Summary: What if Beetlejuice was never banished from the Netherworld? What if the Maitlands, the law-abiding citizens they are, followed the instructions in their handbook and proceeded directly to the Netherworld? What if Lydia had no one to talk her down from the roof that fateful night? What is the Netherworld really like for those who dwell there? This AU answers all your questions and more.Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.
Relationships: Adam Maitland/Barbara Maitland, Beetlejuice & Lydia Deetz, Beetlejuice (Beetlejuice) & Original Character(s), Lydia Deetz/Original Male Character(s), Lydia Deetz/Prince Vince
Comments: 7
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

“Lawrence, don’t touch that!” Juno snapped angrily. The demon pulled his hands behind his back and stood up straight, looking anywhere but his mother’s face. He adjusted the brim of his large gray hat, the metal plate above the brim reading ‘GUIDE,’ to better hide his hair quickly fading to purple. 

“I’m just trying to help, Ma. Tina asked if I could get it for her an-”

“Don’t make excuses to me! You don’t answer to her, so quit doing her odd jobs. I oughta have banished you to the living world years ago. You’ve always been a miserable excuse for a demon. Get out!”

His keen sense of smell noted the scent of alcohol, and he knew there’d be no reasoning with her now. He crept back out the way he’d come, reminding himself to return once she’d fallen asleep to grab that file for Tina. She’d never notice it missing anyway.

_ *** _

The Maitlands stared quietly at the book on the living room carpet. The fading ache in their necks, their ice-cold hands, and the bodies in the basement had clued them in, and the thick brown book reading ‘Handbook for the Recently Deceased’ put the nail in the not so metaphorical coffin. Barbara, always the bolder of the two, knelt down to pick it up. She flipped it open to the first page.

“What does it say?” Adam asked, trying to peer over her shoulder.

“It says...we should draw a door. I can’t make heads or tails of this thing other than that, it reads like—like I don’t even  _ know _ what. You’ve still got chalk in the attic, right?”

“Can’t hurt to try! Well, I suppose nothing can hurt anymore, because y’know…” His voice trailed off as he paused halfway up the stairs. He cleared his throat awkwardly and continued. Barbara kept flipping through until he returned a while later to pull her upstairs with him. They both stood in front of the slightly crooked outline he’d drawn in the wall.

“What now?” he asked. Barbara stared at the book again.

“We should...knock three times? Adam, want to do the honors?” she replied, sharing a glance with her husband. He nodded, approaching the door and rapping the wooden wall thrice, then quickly retreating to hold her hand again. She squeezed it comfortingly. At first, nothing happened. Then, the outline he’d drawn began to glow brightly and the door swung open. The green gleam was all they saw as they walked forward together, not entirely of their own volition. 

_ *** _

Lydia gripped the crumpled piece of paper in her fist tighter as she climbed out the window. It was dark out on the roof, and the wind shook the trees. She looked over the edge of the tiles, spotting no one on the small-town streets below.

Once she was gone, her dad would be  _ sorry. _

_ *** _

When Lydia opened her eyes, everything ached. She looked around to find herself on the back porch. That’s strange, wasn’t she last on the—oh. 

It wasn’t a good feeling, looking across the yard and spotting your own body. The small dark figure lay on the ground like a marionette with cut strings and limbs bent the wrong way. Lydia stood up and tried to back away, tripping over a thick brown book she hadn’t noticed before. She landed flat on her back, book sliding out from under her. Rubbing the back of her head, she reached forward to pick it up.

“Handbook for the Recently Deceased?” she wondered aloud, dread settling in the pit of her stomach. She sat cross-legged on the porch with her back to the yard, squinting in the dim light as she tried to read it.

“Knock three times…well, can’t hurt to try,” she rationalized. She stood up, book in hand, and rapped on the door to her house. It swung open backwards and she shielded her face from the bright glow with one arm. Wondrously, she stepped forward into it and the door closed behind her.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

When she emerged through the door, it was just as dark as it had been outside and she stood and blinked for a few seconds as her eyes adjusted. As far as she could tell, the afterlife looked like if the DMV decided to open a branch in the vacuum of space. The waiting room was mostly grayscale, with glowing swirls adorning the walls. People were scattered around the waiting room, and Lydia could tell how most of them had died just by looking at them. She clutched her handbook close as she glanced around anxiously. There was an empty chair next to a young couple near the entrance, so she approached them and waved to get their attention. 

“You mind if I sit next to you?”

“Of course,” said the man absentmindedly, a thirtysomething guy with a green plaid shirt and dark brown hair. Looking up, he and who Lydia assumed was his wife, a blonde woman with a green flowered dress, did a double take and gave each other a concerned glance.

“You’re so young, what are you doing here?” the woman asked worriedly. Lydia looked at her shoes, wishing she could curl up into a ball and disappear. 

“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” she murmured. Remorse flashed over the woman’s face and she put a hand on Lydia’s shoulder.

“That’s okay! You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to. I’m Barbara Maitland, this is my husband Adam-” he waved- “And it’s nice to meet you. What’s your name?”

“Lydia Deetz,” the girl replied. Almost as if on queue, the intercom spluttered to life and crackled out  _ ‘Lydia Evelyn Deetz, please report to the front desk immediately for specialty processing,’ _ before going silent again. Lydia could feel the couple’s gazes on her before she looked up at them.

“Guess I should get going,” she mumbled, hopping up from her seat and hugging her handbook to her chest. They stared at her as she wandered deeper into the room, eventually disappearing from their view.

As Lydia approached the front desk, she saw three people behind it. Seated behind the desk was a green-skinned woman with brilliantly red hair and a sash reading ‘Miss Argentina’ across her sparkly orange-red outfit. She was typing on her ancient computer, trying very hard to appear busy and not meet anyone’s gaze. Standing behind her was an irritated-looking woman wearing a red blazer. She had a straight gash across her throat and a huge beehive hairdo with a black streak through it that reminded Lydia of ‘bride of Frankenstine’ costumes she’d seen at shitty Halloween stores. Standing somewhat awkwardly behind her was a chubby and pale-skinned man wearing a black and white striped suit, a tattered gray trenchcoat, and a large hat with a metal plate reading ‘GUIDE’ above the brim. He had a purple beard, pointed ears like an elf, and what looked like small fangs. Both of them had yellow eyes, but the man’s eyes had slightly slitted catlike pupils. Upon seeing her, the man quietly but audibly gasped, then clapped his hands over his mouth. He turned to the older woman in red, who couldn’t seem to care less.

“Mom, that’s a kid. This is a child. I can’t work with a-a-a fucking  _ baby! _ ”

The woman shot him a glare before turning back to loom over Lydia. Although she wasn’t very tall, not including her hair, Lydia suddenly felt very small.

“If you off yourself, you must serve as a civil servant for causing more paperwork.  _ That’s _ the rules. We do not, nor have we ever, nor ever will we in the future, make exceptions based on age, gender, race, orientation, species, et cetera. She looks like she’ll make a decent intern. Do I make myself very clear, Lawrence?”

“Crystal,” he replied in a strangled voice. Satisfied, the woman turned back to loom over Lydia, who was still frozen in place, processing what she’d just heard. 

“You!” the woman shouted, getting the young girl’s attention. Somewhere in the middle distance, a foghorn inexplicably sounded. “You’re coming with me.”

Seemingly of its own volition, the gate separating the behind-the-desk area from the rest of the room swung open. Dragged by some kind of unseen force, Lydia was pulled through it, gate shutting and audibly locking behind her. She shuddered.

“Woah,” she remarked aloud, expression a mixture of confusion, awe, and mild fear. The man known as Lawrence caught her eye and objected, “Mom, she’s just a kid, don’t-”

“Don’t contradict me!” she snapped. Miss Argentina began typing with more urgency, avoiding Lawrence’s pleading gaze even more pointedly than before. 

“If you care so much, why don’t  _ you _ process her?”

“Wait, Mom, you can’t-”

She cut him off, face twisting into the satisfied expression of someone who’d just had the most  _ brilliant _ idea.

“After all, as my assistant you should be able to do something as simple as processing the new meat on your own. Hah, an assistant for the assistant. Take care of it!” 

Another foghorn blared. She thrust her papers into his arms and he scrambled to catch them all before they fell. With that, she waved a hand and vanished in a plume of red smoke. As she faded away, the green-skinned woman stopped typing and turned to Lydia.

“Don’t worry about Juno, girl. She’s always like that.”

“J-Juno?”

“Director of Customs and Processing, stupidly powerful demon, my mother, and all around bitch,” Lawrence spat, his scraggly purple beard gaining a noticeable red tint. 

“Demon?” Lydia wondered. Miss A rolled her eyes.

“You’re one who’s in charge of her, Lawrence, you’d better run along. I’ve got enough to worry about over here.”

Pulling herself together, Lydia looked up to meet Lawrence’s gaze. He sighed, furrowed his brow, and nonchalantly sprouted a third arm to point down a hallway she hadn’t noticed being there before.

“I’ll explain as best I can on the walk, but you’d better follow me and stick close.  Capisce ?”

Lydia stared wordlessly, mouth agape.

“You—your arm-”

“Yep, pretty rad, please come on,”

He magically raised another arm, grabbed her by the shoulder, and half-dragged the teenager down the hall.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

As soon as they were both in the hallway, the exit closed behind them, leaving a featureless wall. Lydia shrieked, pulling her arm free of his grasp and turning to face it. Lawrence narrowed his eyes, wheeling around.  
“C’mon, kid, we gotta keep moving! The backrooms don’t last long before collapsing back into the ether, you just died, do you want to stop existing?”  
“Maybe!” she sobbed, shuddering and slowly sliding down the wall onto the floor. This gave him pause.  
“Um. Oh, shit.”  
He knelt down and attempted to gently pat her on the head reassuringly. This did absolutely nothing to calm her down, so he picked her up by the back of the collar as carefully as he could and started walking again. Still crying, she lashed out at him with furious kicks and punches, but he just held her out at arms length and continued. The overall effect was of someone picking up a furiously angry kitten by the scruff. Eventually she stopped fighting and just hung limply in his grasp, tears streaming down her face.   
“We’re here,” he announced to no one in particular. As the hallway ceased to exist, they were left in a dark room with a desk and two chairs in the middle. He set her down in one chair, dropped all the files on the desk, and sat across from her. She pulled her knees to her chest and stared at the walls, scowling.   
“So,” he began, with no reaction from her, “You killed yourself. No easy way to put it. And around here, death creates paperwork. Suicide means more death which makes more paperwork. Some clever bastard somewhere up the line decided ‘hey, wouldn’t it be just fine and dandy if we made them push papers for eternity as punishment for offing themselves? Nevermind the fact that they’ll never get anything done because they were already mentally ill enough to go through with it and probably just need help.’ And that’s how it’s worked down here ever since.”  
Lydia chuckled darkly at the cockney accent he put on for his ‘Upper Management’ voice, then sniffed.   
“What’s gonna happen to me? The only piece of that jumbled jargon-y mess of your handbook I understood was the whole door thing. I dunno if I’m cut out for office work.”  
“Makes sense, you’re like...what, five? Mom mentioned something about you being an intern, so let’s go with that.”  
Lydia wiped her face on one sleeve and dropped her handbook onto the desk with all the paperwork.   
“I’m fifteen, not that it matters,” she snapped, “Let’s just get this over with.”  
“It kinda does, because you’re dead now. You aren’t going to age or heal or anything. Human souls tend to stick the way they were at the moment of their deaths.”  
“You keep calling me a human, what, like you’re not one?” she wondered.  
“Nope. Demon,” he replied, digging through his pockets for a pen, “Mom’s a demon so I am too. I was born here. Not fun.”  
“You’re a demon, a powerful mythical being, and you’re named Lawrence?”   
He paused, locking eyes with her.  
“I didn't exactly pick it myself, short stack. Plus I usually go by my middle name. Beetlejuice—don’t laugh, it’s a star. My friends call me Beej, or at least they would if I had any.”  
She bit back a chuckle, then sniffled. Beetlejuice let out a sigh of relief for finally getting her to calm down.  
“Okay, step one on the agenda—getting you processed in. You ought to write your name on the inside cover of your handbook to help you keep track of it, plus you gotta sign a buncha stuff. Need a pen?”  
Lydia nodded and he pulled several pens of different types out of his pockets. There was an ordinary ballpoint, a fountain pen, a mechanical pencil, and even an old-timey ink and quill. Ever the dramatic, Lydia chose the quill and wrote her name in her handbook, setting it on her lap. Beetlejuice flipped open the folder and pointed her to the correct sections, showing her where to sign, initial, or check. After altogether too much time verifying that she was, in fact, herself, he put everything back into the folder and it vanished in a puff of faintly red smoke. Lydia wrinkled her nose at the acrid scent.   
“Now what?”  
“Now I guess I give you the tour.” He caught her eye and shot her a grin.  
“Hey, chin up, kid. You’re in good hands, I promise. I’ve been here longer than anyone else ‘cept Ma. You couldn’t have asked for anyone better to show you the ropes. Now let’s get outta here. Deal?”  
“Deal.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Kid, you better quit running off or I’ll have put a leash on you, like a dog or my cousin Marley. Just because this part of the office doesn’t eat people doesn’t mean you won’t get lost,” Beetlejuice said, grabbing Lydia’s sleeve to stop her from darting into the room they were passing by. So far, he’d shown her the break room (“An oxymoron, but there is a vending machine in there, I’ll show you how to get stuff without paying if you want”), the offices (“Don’t go in the Director’s Office unless you want my mom to bite your head off, possibly literally”), and now the “big room with all the filing cabinets that no one goes into because it basically stretches into infinity.”  
Lydia froze. “Wait, the building eats people who wander off?”   
He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s less of ‘eat’ and more of ‘the room you were in stopped existing randomly, whoops.’ Same basic result, through. And that only applies to the connector hallways, the filing chamber is important. It would never vanish—It’s where we store the files of every person who ever died.”  
“Every person? My mom’s dead, is she in here somewhere?”  
Lydia urgently grabbed him by the lapels and shook him.  
“Could I find her here?!”   
The caught-off-guard demon attempted to dislodge her, being only partially successful.  
“This is just where the files go after we process them through customs, the Netherworld is a huge place and your mom could be anywhere in it! Besides, why would you ever want to spend more time with your mother? You met my mother, she’s a demon and she totally doesn’t get me. Anyway, we gotta keep moving. Just one more pit stop and you’ll have seen everywhere important in the Bureau of Customs and Processing.”  
Lydia let go and crossed her arms, reluctantly leaving the doorway behind. She walked behind him, lost in her thoughts until he suddenly stopped and she bumped into him. She peeked around his shoulder to look back out at the waiting room, but from the other side as where she’d first come in. There was a large gray gateway that looked mechanical on one end of the room. A woman in a towel, her hair sticking straight up, had a panel in its side open and was tinkering with it. She had a half-gutted toaster on the ground beside her and was scrounging it for parts.  
“Damn, is the AntiOrpheus busted again? That must be what’s causing the backup. Why’d Upper Management even install that thing?” Beetlejuice asked the toaster lady. “Oh, Lydia, this is Nora MacMasters, she’s our mechanic.”  
Nora waved and returned to her work.  
“What is that thing?” Lydia leaned over and whispered.  
“That’s this fancy new tech Upper Management sent us. It’s supposed to detect whether the person passing through it is dead or alive, but it basically never works. Nobody asked for it, and I don’t think we really even need it. It’s not like we get random living people trying to Leeroy Jenkins their way through the land of the dead very often. Just that one asshole back in ancient Greece looking for his girlfriend. It’s like with airplane security, one shithead tried to pull a fast one forever ago and now everyone else has to wait in a longer line because of it,” he whispered back. Nora stood back, satisfied, and turned to Lydia, making a ‘get over here’ motion.  
“C’mere, I think I’ve almost got it up and running again. I need someone to test it on.”   
Lydia looked up at the arch and turned to Beej, who gave her a thumbs up. She slowly walked under it. It remained quiet for a moment, before flashing red and blaring a siren. Nora sighed, pressing a button that chirped like a car alarm and turned it off.  
“See? It thinks she’s alive. It’s been like this all morning. Bah, not that it's any of your business. Thank you and goodbye!”  
Beetlejuice pointed a finger gun at her and took Lydia back to the front desk.   
“So, that’s just about everywhere. One more thing; the only good part about the unstable might-eat-you hallways is that you will never need a map as long as you know where you’re going. You just think about where you want to end up and the backrooms take you there. And would you look at the time, you’ve nearly made it through your first day, kid! Not too shabby, if I do say so myself. Oh, but speaking of time—crap, I’m gonna be late, see ya around, kid!”  
He suddenly vaulted over the desk, transformed into a raccoon, climbed up a cabinet, and vanished into an air duct. Miss Argentina shouted “Lawrence, just use the gate like a normal person!” after him. Lydia was leaning back against the desk when something caught her eye. Another little girl. If she’d been back home, that wouldn’t have meant anything, but this was the land of the dead, and she hadn’t seen another child among their ranks until now. The other girl had faintly pink skin and was wearing a jockey’s uniform and helmet. Her uniform was red and white checkered and the left half was covered in dirty hoofprints. There was a hoof-shaped crack in her helmet and a similarly-shaped bruise on her cheek. She looked over and caught Lydia staring.  
“Um...hi?” she said.   
“Hi,” Lydia replied awkwardly, “Sorry for staring, it’s just that you’re the only other person my age I've seen all day. I’m Lydia. Lydia Deetz.”  
The jockey smiled and held out a hand for Lydia to shake.  
“Presley Ryder. Let me guess, you’re new? I get what you’re saying about us being the only teenagers, I’d definitely have stared if I saw you on my first day. Because you’re a kid too, not in a weird way. Um. Nice to meet you.”  
“It’s nice to meet you too. If I’m gonna be stuck here for the rest of eternity, it’d be nice to have someone to talk to.”  
Suddenly, a glowing green trapdoor opened under her feet and she fell through the floor into...one of the hallways? She saw Beetlejuice standing over her in as nonthreatening a manner as he was physically capable of.  
“Hey, kid, mind if I borrow you for a moment? It’s kinda petty, but-”  
“Say no more. I thought you were late for something, what’s going on?” she interrupted. The demon rubbed his hands together and grinned.  
“Looks like we’re gonna get along better than I thought! Yeah, it turns out I don’t actually know how to read clocks, I’m not late at all. So the deal is, my asshole cousin from Upper Management is visiting, and he’s bringing his dorky little protege with him—you’ll be able to spot that chap from a mile away, just look for a human being who looks like a baby giraffe going through a goth phase—and I thought to myself, what’s the perfect way to show him up? Show off an apprentice of my own! So, kiddo, I figured I could take you under my wing-” he manifested a pair of feathered black wings- “and teach you a thing or two about ghost powers.”  
“I’m in,” she replied without a second thought.


	5. Chapter 5

“Hey, get me down from here!” Lydia shouted from the vulture’s nest at the very top of the blackened and curled tree. She hugged her knees to her chest.

“You have to figure out how to get down yourself, that’s the point of the lesson! There’s like a million ways to not get hurt, you could levitate, you could shape shift, you could summon objects. Just try something! Anything!” Beetlejuice replied. He was in the form of a black and white bone eating vulture and was circling the treetop above her head.

“You’re a terrible teacher!” Lydia shouted up at him.

“Sink or swim method, kid, like pushing a baby bird out of the nest to teach it to fly. You’re my baby bird, a downy little crow fledgeling who needs to earn her wings.” 

“Baby birds die if they fall out of the nest and they still have down feathers,” Lydia shot back.

“Well, you’re already dead, so nothing to worry about!” 

With a flap of his wings, he perched on her shoulder and used his weight to shove her out of the tree. She screamed and grabbed at his taloned feet, flying just a little bit out of reach. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to turn into a bird, float,  _ anything, not again, not again, not aga- _

She was suddenly jolted to a stop and felt herself slowly and gently descending. She cracked one eye open to see Beetlejuice still in vulture form holding tightly onto her shoulders.

“You okay, kid?” he asked, resuming human form after setting her down, “You kinda-oof.”

She pulled him into a tight hug and shuddered, sobbing. He froze, having no clue what he was supposed to do.

“That’s—it’s how I died. I jumped off the roof, to spite my dad.”

“Oh my God/Satan I had no idea heights weren’t your thing, I’m so sorry. Well, we can try something else next time that’s more your style, alright?” he ventured, extracting himself from her grasp—for such a small kid, she had a lot of upper arm strength. 

“Okay, I think it is actually time for that meeting, so we better move our tails.”

To demonstrate his point, he sprouted a bushy raccoon tail, then just transformed into a large and soft raccoon and rested on her shoulder. “I’ll give you directions, and you can be my legs.”

_ *** _

“So what is this meeting even about, anyway?” Lydia asked as they walked through the hall.

“My cousin, Marlablair Vulthoom, and his protege who is being trained for a position in Upper Management as part of some ghost equity program, are making the rounds in all the bureaus. Just kinda learning and overseeing how we do things here. Oh, round that corner and here we are!” 

He jumped off her shoulder and turned back into a human as he landed in front of the table. A tall man in a black vest and slacks and a white collared shirt was seated at the other end of the table. His hair was long and rose petal pink, with dark brown roots. Like Beetlejuice, he had yellow eyes and pointed ears. Standing anxiously beside him was a boy who did, in fact, resemble a goth baby giraffe. He wore the same expression as those pictures of sad wet cats on the internet, and had black hair that framed his face. He was thin and bony, and was wearing a longsleeved black t-shirt, a small gray poncho over his shoulders, and grey pants. He was very pale and gaunt and looked slightly...moist?

“You’re late,” the pink-haired demon said in a deep, smooth voice, “But not by much, so definitely an improvement over the last time I came to visit. Who’s your little companion?”

“This is Lydia. She’s new around here. Lydia, Marley; Marley, Lydia. Hey, cuz, still got the stick wedged up your ass or has it been surgically removed yet?”

Marlablair rolled his eyes.

“As crude as ever, I see. Well, Miss Lydia, it is a pleasure to meet you. Allow me to introduce my assistant, Vincent Prince. Feel free to talk amongst yourselves.”

The nervous little boy stepped out of the taller man’s shadow and offered Lydia his hand to shake. Ever the businessman's daughter, she shook his bony hand firmly. His hand was cold, clammy, and more than a little damp. He smelled like the ocean. Wait, woah there brain, she thought to herself, why are we taking note of how this boy smells? 

She was jogged out of her thoughts’ sudden sharp left turn by the boy himself piping up for the first time since she’d entered the room. He spoke softly, with an English accent.

“You can call me Vince, if you like—everyone does, really.” 

“Oh, alrighty then, Vince it is,” she replied absentmindedly, pulling out a chair and seating herself on the opposite end of the long table as the two bickering adults. Marlablair was pointing forcefully at the file of paperwork he’d brought with him, and Beetlejuice was gesturing broadly and wildly at well...everything. Lydia wrinkled her nose and turned her attention back to Vince, who sat down across from her. He was narrowing his eyes at his cupped palms and a small rainstorm was beginning to form above them.

“What the hell are you doing?” she asked, startling him and breaking his concentration. 

“Oh, just practicing,” he replied meekly, “Mr. Marlablair says I’ve got a lot of promise with my weather manipulation, but I can only seem to make weather that corresponds with my feelings. Usually just rainclouds.” 

“Well, I can’t seem to do anything magical, so you’ve got one over me. What’s it like being a demon’s assistant? I’ve only been here for, I don’t even know, a day or two, maybe?”

“You’ve probably been here much longer than you think, time works differently here. It doesn’t seem that long for me when I think about it, but I died when I was fourteen, and I’d be nearly seventeen now if I hadn’t-”

He was suddenly hit by a violent coughing fit. There was a horrible wet choking sound in the back of his throat before he coughed up some bloody seawater. They both sat in silence for a few seconds.

“Are you okay?” Lydia ventured, not wanting to push on what was obviously an uncomfortable subject. Nobody would want to dwell on how they died, and although there were no obvious signs of injury like there had been for Presley, she was beginning to guess about his past.

“M’ fine,” he panted shallowly, “Just...uncomfortable, that’s all. Thank you.”

“For what? I haven’t done anything.”

“For—for caring, I suppose.”

Before she could figure out what to do with that, a potted plant whizzed past her face and slammed into the wall. They both looked up to see that their demonic counterpart’s argument had clearly escalated. Marlablair had summoned a wicked-looking scythe to his hand, and Beetlejuice’s hair and beard seemed to have changed colors from gloomy purple to blood red. He bared his fangs at Marlablair and snarled, pouncing over the table.

“Would you look at that, it’s time to go!” Vince yelped, jumping to his feet, taking her by the hand and pulling her through a nearby door, which closed behind them.

“What are they doing?” Lydia asked in a panic.

“They’re demons, they’re all that dramatic! They’re just showing off to each other. But, um, it’s probably not a good idea to be in a small space with a pair of battling demons, just to be on the safe side. We’re rather squishy compared to them.”

They rounded the corner into the break room and he let go of her arm. Despite the fact that she wasn’t a civil servant, Presley Ryder was inexplicably sitting in front of the vending machine and trying to stick her arm up the slot. Both teens stared at her before she turned around and noticed them.   
“Again with the staring, Lydia?” she asked sarcastically. It was truly amazing how smug she was capable of sounding with her arm stuck in a vending machine.

“How did you get back here?” Vince asked, slightly miffed, “You’re certainly not allowed in the backrooms.”

“You’d be surprised how far you can get by holding a clipboard and walking like you know where you’re going.”

She managed to get her arm loose and straightened up.

“Who’s he?” she asked Lydia.   
“Oh, right. Presley, this is Vince. Vince, meet Presley.”

“Charmed,” he replied, “but shouldn’t she leav-”

“Quit being a rules lawyer, Vince, help us steal from this vending machine. Down with the bourgeoisie!” Lydia interrupted, shoving him aside and kicking the clear front of the machine as hard as she could. Nothing happened. Lydia narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms, glancing back at the other two children. Presley looked impressed and if any of them still had pulses, she could have sworn Vince would have been blushing—from embarrassment, most likely. 

“Is that really necessary?” he asked plaintively. 

“Yes,” insisted Lydia and Presley simultaneously. They spent the next several minutes lounging around the machine, tilting it, entering combinations, and generally having a good time. After a while, Lydia was intently focused on trying to phase her arm through the glass, make it solid enough to grab something, then phase it back through. Vince was seated beside her, watching quietly. A cool shadow passed over them, and Presley tapped them on the shoulder. They slowly looked up to see Marlablair standing behind them, scythe in hand and expression grim. Beetlejuice was leaning passive-aggressively in the doorway. They all froze, not knowing what to expect from the strict demon. Finally, he spoke.

“You’re doing that wrong. You press 432112311 and it drops all the change in the machine.”

With that, he turned away from the dumbfounded teens, grabbed Vince by the sleeve, pulled him to his feet, and walked out, half-dragging the boy with him. Vince managed to yank his arm free and turned, pale face flushed slightly pink. He called out, “Good-bye Lydia, it was lovely to meet you, and-”   
Marlablair rolled his eyes, snapped his fingers, and they both vanished in a shower of phantom rose petals.

Beetlejuice rolled his eyes. 

“Marley, Marley, Marley. Always the show-off.”

Lydia scoffed.

“ _ He’s _ the show-off? Pot, meet kettle.”

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

“Kid, you’re a mad genius!”

“What?” 

A few weeks had passed, and Lydia was getting into the swing of things. As an intern she would get coffee, the lifeblood of the Bureau, for the adults; follow Beej around, ‘shadowing’ it was called; and fetch whatever else any of the other servants asked of her. She was holding a tray of mugs when Beetlejuice burst into the room she was in with a bang.

“You’ve taken the little twerp out of commision! I mean, that’s just vicious! I’m so proud,” he hummed. Lydia was bewildered.

“What the hell are you talking about? I didn't do  _ anything  _ to him, we just hung out a while back. And I wave when I see him in hallways.”

Beetlejuice stared blankly at her as she rolled her eyes and walked past him, shoving his coffee with an abysmal amount of sugars into his grasp.

“You...didn't do that on purpose? Whatever, that’s not why I’m—oh, thank you—here. Don’t freak out, but you need to head for the filing chamber once you’re done with that. Also, avoid windows. Some dumbshit newlydead let a—actually, don’t worry about it. Don’t even worry about it!” he said in a way that completely failed to make her not worry as he ducked back out of the room. She warily made her way to the waiting room, dropping off Nora and Miss A’s mugs. The green-skinned woman gratefully accepted and Presley waved at Lydia from across the gate. As Lydia turned to leave, she heard a distant roar from somewhere above her. She thought back to Beetlejuice’s warning as she wandered deeper into the hallways, heading for the office. Delivering to Juno’s office was the part of the day she dreaded the most. Beetlejuice liked to joke that his mother’s soul was the same as how she took her coffee—black. Lydia knew that the woman had a hairtrigger temper and like all demons wasn’t afraid to throw her power around. Taking a deep breath that she didn't need, Lydia pushed the door open. Juno was signing paperwork at her desk and looked up when Lydia entered the room. The dark-haired girl froze in place.

“What do you want?” Juno practically snarled, “I’m busy!”

“I, uh, came here to bring you your coffee. Black, just like you told me.”

She quickly put the coffee on the desk and backed away towards the door. Juno regarded her with suspicion before seizing the mug. Lydia retreated through the door and closed it, sighing with relief. With that, she headed towards that big room with all the filing cabinets. Maybe she'd be able to find something about her mom in there. As she passed through the doorway, she looked around and took in just how big this room really was. She saw a section marker reading ‘A’ high overhead, and the next marker, ‘B’ was far off in the distance. She was wondering how far away ‘D’ was when she bumped into a slim, damp figure. 

“Oh-sorry!” she said quickly. In a familiar british accent, he replied “It’s not a problem at all, really.”

Vincent Prince turned around bashfully. Lydia cocked her head to the side and grinned.

“Hey, Vince. Great to see you!” 

The boy stiffened at the sight of her but managed to squeak out a hello. 

“So, where’s Marley? Usually you never quit following him around like a lost puppy,” Lydia continued

“Oh, he’s outside dealing with the-well, if you’re here you already know,” he replied anxiously. Lydia squinted at him.

“No, I...don’t know. I came up here because Beej said I should. What’re you talking about?”

“No-one told you about the sandworm?!” Vince gasped. 

“Sandworm? The hell’s a sandworm?” she asked. He grabbed her by the shoulders suddenly, his freezing cold and damp hands making her jump.

“How do you not know what a sandworm is? It’s been a month and a half!”

“I’ve been busy!” she retorted. He made a few flabbergasted noises and put his head in his hands. 

“Anyway, whatever a ‘sandworm’ is, if Beej says we’re safe in here, then we’re safe. In the time being, I need your help. I want to find my mom,” she continued, “She died a few months ago, and that means she must be here somewhere! If I could find her file in this room, could we use it to find her?”

“I-what?” Vince stammered, “I have no idea! What’s your last name?”

“Deetz. So it’ll be in the D section. Shouldn’t be too far, right?”

She grabbed him by the wrist and started marching down the rows of shelving. Vince struggled and pulled his arm loose.

“Lydia, do you have any idea how many people have died in the history of the world, and how much paperwork each of them creates? Plus, this room has space-time fluctuations like no other! People have gotten lost for years, decades, centuries even, in here! Even a quick trip down a few letters could be really risky for us. And Mr. Vulthoom says I have a promising future ahead of me, even without the life I threw away, and I am not in the mood to waste my second chance!” he snapped, then instantly regretted it when he saw the hurt on Lydia’s face.

“I-I didn't mean that-”

“Yeah, you did,” she replied glumly, sinking to the floor with her back against a shelf, “...My mom was my whole world. And when she left us, my dad wouldn’t even talk about her! I felt like I was invisible to him, so I decided that...that doing what I did would be the only way to make him see me again.”

Vince sat down beside her.

“I can relate. I suppose we were both screwed up by our parents-well, not my birth parents. I grew up in foster care, I’ve never met them. I don’t know anything about them, if they’re alive, dead, if they wanted me or not. And my foster dad…well, he was a piece of work. Distant, belittling, furious at every little mistake. I never got the impression he actually cared about me or wanted a child to raise. He only saw me as the checks the government sent. And not a bleeding red cent of those checks were once spent on me, let me assure you of that. So I decided to rob him of that once and for all. There was a cliff near his house, a cliff high above the ocean. So…you can probably guess.”

Lydia let out a dark chuckle.

“Let’s add that to the list of things we have in common: fashion sense, demon mentors, shitty dads, and jumping off high places.”

Vince paused and turned to face her.

“You jumped off something too?”

“Yep, my roof,” she replied, popping the P.

“I assumed your death had involved fire somehow. You’re warm-not to be weird, or anything, it’s just that most ghosts are always so cold, and, well, it stood out due to the contrast.”

Lydia giggled.

“That’s not too weird, don’t worry. The first thing I noticed about you when we met was how you smelled like the ocean. It’s a good smell, but still, I was kinda goin,  _ ‘hey brain, that’s a weird thing to be noticing about some boy you just met’ _ internally.”

Vince smiled sadly and scooted a little closer to her to rest his cheek on her shoulder. She recoiled at his moist touch. He sat up straight and gave her a confused glance.

“We need to wrap you in a towel or something, if you want to try and be cute like that,” she told him, “and I still haven’t figured out how to manifest stuff with my powers yet. So you’re on your own here, buddy.”

She gave him an affectionate punch to the shoulder and he made a miffed expression. He held his hands in front of him and squinted at them fiercely. Bits of cloud formed and swirled across his cupped palms, slowly twisting into strands of turquoise ectoplasm and forming a large fluffy white towel. Lydia gasped with delight. She snatched the towel from him and tried her best to dry his hair to no avail, before wrapping it securely around his shoulders. Then she snuggled up beside him.

“Much better,” she decided. If ghosts could blush with no bloodflow, Vincent Molloy Prince surely would have been doing so. The two teens sat in cozy silence for a short while. Lydia tilted her head up to look at him.

“So, how’d you get this whole ‘apprentice’ job? Pretty sweet gig, if you ask me. I’ve been running around doing errands this whole time.”

“Well, people were complaining that only demons have high positions in Upper Management, either ascended ghosts or born-deads, so I’m part of the new equity program. For ghost equality. It’s really very interesting work, once you get used to it, I’ve been doing it for about a year and a half and—oh my god,  _ don’t move _ .”

He went rigid with fear, and Lydia looked out the corner of her eye at the window. A massive black-and-white serpent with red eyes was staring hungrily from the other side of the glass. That must be a sandworm, she thought with dissonant serenity.

“Is their vision based on movement like in Jurassic Park?”

“I’m hoping so!” he whispered frantically. The massive beast began headbutting the glass, which quickly spiderwebbed with cracks.

“It can see us,  _ it can see us _ !” 

Vince dematerialized the towel, freeing his hands, and as he leapt to his feet and tried to pull Lydia to safety the sandworm broke through the glass, sending shards flying everywhere. He was knocked back, the giant snake’s long striped body twisting through the jagged hole and cutting Lydia off from him. She crawled backwards and grabbed a sharp chunk of glass, the edges cutting into her palm as she gripped it and pointed it at the sandworm which regarded her curiously. Ever-so-slowly, it opened its massive jaws to reveal a second head, this one pale with pink freckles. It coiled further inside and slowly approached her, not threateningly or with ‘I’m ‘bout to eatcha’ vibes. It seemed more confused than anything else. She could hear Vince shout “Lydia, what are you doing? Run! Run now!”, but running away from large predators usually tended to make them see you as their prey, and this large serpent looked more docile than anything else. She dropped the glass shard, not that it would have done much good, and reached out her hand with an open palm. The sandworm trilled and gently headbutted her hand, resting its second forehead against her palm. Vince stared open-mouthed at them as Lydia cracked a smile, looking across the sandworm’s coils at him.

“Why where you so freaked out about this guy earlier? Sandworms are just big soft danger noodles!”

“Lydia, sandworms  _ eat ghosts _ ! I have no idea why that one isn’t eating you! They’re like exorcisms with teeth; if one gets you, you’re gone for good! Get away from it,” he begged. Lydia opened her mouth to say something, but suddenly, several thorny vines curled around the window and lashed around the sandworm’s mouth like a muzzle, holding it closed and keeping the second head inside. It let out a muffled squeal of pain. On a platform of greenery, Marlablair descended from the outside rooftop with scythe in hand, long hair blowing in the wind. Beetlejuice climbed up from below to grab one of the vines and yanked it with all of his strength. The sandworm was pulled back out through the cracked window, dropping to the forest floor below, and Vince rushed to Lydia’s side. He squeezed her hand comfortingly as Marlablair’s vines shriveled up and he ducked inside the window. Beetlejuice also climbed inside, stepping over the broken glass when he spotted the two teens. He narrowed his eyes.

“Traitor,” he hissed playfully at Lydia. She stuck her tongue out at him. Marlablair shot them both a quizzical look. 

“Are you two alright?” he asked gently. Vince nodded and turned to Lydia with a smile.

“Yes. Somehow, I think we’re going to be just fine.”

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

After the sandworm ransacked the filing room, Lydia and Vince were charged with fixing it in the month to come. This mostly meant putting stacks of folders in drawers while Beetlejuice ‘supervised’ (read: slacked off) and occasionally help set a toppled filing cabinet upright or knock dents out of the metal sides. Soon enough--or perhaps it could have been much longer, who knew how time worked in this place--the room was in working order again, and Beetlejuice received a note written on a sheet of printer paper that appeared in a coil of smoke on the table. On it was typed  _ ‘Unreported wandering newlydead in Winter River General Hospital, guide them.’ _

Lydia peered over his shoulder and snatched his hat off his head for no particular reason.

“What’s that all mean? Who sent you this?”

“It  _ means _ —give me my hat back, Scarecrow, do you want to find out or no?—it means that there’s some random dead person wandering around a building someplace who never showed up in the waiting room. The Powers That Be don’t care if you don’t come through a door if you’re in your own home, but people who die in public places are a different story. No one wants to be the guy who breaks the secret of existence after death. So as Ma’s assistant, I have to go to the world of the living and drag the poor soul kicking and screaming through a door. Uh…you kids go bother Marley, I can’t take you with me.”

“Why not? I wanna come,” Lydia pestered. He sighed, running his hands through his purple hair.

“Well, I’m a demon, so I can go where I want when I want to. But once a human soul passes through a door, especially suicides, the Netherworld doesn’t let go as easily. They may not look it, but the doors are one-way. Sorry kid, I’d love to bring you, I’m sure you’d lighten the mood.” 

He ruffled her hair gently. She firmly shoved the GUIDE hat down onto her head and he chuckled, hair lightening and shifting into a greenish hue.

“Keep it, it suits you, kid.”

“Wait a minute, did your hair just change  _ color _ ?” she peered quizzically up at him. He seemed almost bashful of it, looking around for a mirror before remembering there weren’t any.

“Um…maybe? It does that sometimes. What color is it?”

“Green,” Vince piped up, “Bright electric green.” Lydia nodded to corroborate.

A faint smile appeared at the man’s lips.

“Green...green’s a good color. Yeah. Oh, um, see you around, don’t do anything cool until I get back, and  _ zero _ traitorous activities allowed. Lyds, looking at you. Peace.

He flashed a peace sign as a green door drew itself behind him. He leaned back and fell through it. It sealed closed behind him.

“If you’d like,” Vince began, brushing a bit of hair out of his face, “I could take you up to Mr. Vulthoom’s office—after all, Mr. Shoggath told us to go find him. It’s in another bureau but there are ways of getting there faster than walking. After all, his real job is in Handbook Assembly and Distribution and we wouldn’t be able to get the handbooks to every dead person without a little teleportation.”

“If you can  _ teleport _ , why can’t we teleport a little down the hall and find my mom?” Lydia retorted. Vince sighed.

“It doesn’t work like that, and I’m sorry to tell you this but finding your mother’s files won’t necessarily help you find  _ her _ . It sounds like you were very close and I wish I could help, but the Netherworld is a big and empty place and she could be anywhere. Sorry if I’m being too blunt or-”

“No, it’s okay. Like you said when we first met, thanks for caring. No one else does, usually,” she replied softly. Exhaling sharply through her nose, she smiled up at him. “So, let’s be off. How does your little magic trick work?”

Vince met her gaze and smiled back, taking her hand and guiding her to the doorway. He squinted his eyes at the door and focused his powers on it. The cracks between the door and its frame lit up with a softly rumbling thunderstorm for a few seconds before swinging open. They stepped through into a woodsey area, a far fling from the cramped and dingy hallways of Customs and Processing. The teens had emerged into a grove with real, living trees that didn't look anything like the twisted and blackened leafless trees that blanketed the grey landscape outside of their windows. Lydia looked up to see that they were still indoors, not beneath the Netherworlds black and starless sky, but instead a large UV lamp, not dissimilar to the Sun, hung from the center of the large room’s ceiling. Through a doorway to her left, she could see and hear a large printing press chugging away. In front of them was a path leading to another door, this one labelled with Marlablair’s full name in block letters. Lydia chuckled a little at the sign, because apparently his middle name was ‘Calvin.’ She supposed that all demons must have an ‘ordinary human person’-sounding name somewhere in there, and Marley had gotten luckier than Beej in that department, what with it being his middle name instead of his first name. Vince nudged her in the ribs gently to get her attention.

“So?” he asked expectantly. Lydia shot him a look.

“So what?” she replied. He sighed.

“So, what do you think of the Bureau of Handbook Assembly and Distribution? Much less stuffy than Customs was, I expect,” he added proudly. She rolled her eyes good-naturedly as they walked down the path. “What’s with all these trees? I mean, there are tons of trees outside, why grow live ones in the land of the dead?”

“Paper, for the books. Can’t make paper from dead trees. Besides, lots of civil servants have office plants, this is just on a larger scale. There’s actually quite a lot of breathable air in the Netherworld, funnily enough—although most of it comes from doors being opened to the living world and air rushing in through them.”

Lydia punched him in the arm playfully to cut him off. “Enough with the history lesson, smarty-pants. We’re here.”

They both stared up at the big black office door. Vince knocked lightly and called out, “Mr. Vulthoom? It’s me, and I’ve brought Lydia.”

The door swung inward on its own and they stepped through into the office. Marlablair sat behind a dark hardwood desk, upon which rested a vase of roses. 

“Hello there, what brings you two rapscallions here? Finished already, or just giving your friend a break from the dusty old hall of Customs?” the demon asked without looking up, a wry smile on his face. 

“Beej had to go to the living world to do something, and we aren’t allowed in the records hall unsupervised so he sent us up here. Got anything for us to do, or can we just hang out if we promise to not get in anyone’s way?”

Marlablair mulled it over for a moment. He shrugged.

“Sure, as long as you don’t interrupt anyone or get your fingers caught in the machinery, you can have the run of the place. The sun lamp will probably do you two some good. Go on, get--I’m busy here,” he added playfully. Tugging at Vince’s arm, Lydia pulled him back outside and marched off the path and directly up to one of the trees. It was short and squat, the branches thick, study, and low to the ground. Perfect. 

“You go first,” she ordered. Vince balked. 

“How come I have to climb it first?”

“Because I don’t do well with heights and I’d feel safer with you there before me,” she replied matter-of-factly. He couldn’t argue with that, so he shimmied up the tree, remembering to manifest a towel and wrap it around himself when he reached a good spot in the branches. Lydia climbed up beside him and rested her cheek against his shoulder. She squeezed her eyes shut and sighed.

“You know, the whole being dead thing hasn’t been too bad, considering. Maybe I haven’t found my mom, but I’ve found you. And Beej.”

She paused for a moment, enjoying the quiet hum of machinery. 

“I could liv-I could exist with this. It isn’t the worst thing in the world, y’know?”

Vince didn't respond for a moment, before suddenly lurching and almost falling out the tree. Lydia caught him and pulled him back, holding him close.

“Woah, what was that about?” she asked. He blinked confusedly at her.

“Your heart beat, it startled me. I don’t think that’s supposed to be happening anymore,” he replied breathlessly, a little shaken from almost falling. Lydia pondered that for a moment.

“Maybe our hearts just beat really, really slowly now?”

Vince cracked a smile at that, shutting his eyes. They sat together, not saying anything, just enjoying the others company, and when Lydia looked down at Vince again it seemed that the familiar white noise of the printing machine had put him to sleep. Lydia smiled and closed her eyes again.

_ *** _

The sound of people talking and machines beeping filled the halls of Winter River General Hospital as one invisible and intangible demon wandered through. Humans had definitely improved their medicine since he’d last checked, during a little event called ‘The Black Plague.’ This place was sterile and cold, and Beetlejuice hadn’t yet been able to locate any trace of the newlydead he was supposed to be finding. He sighed and decided to start from the top again. He floated to the top floor and made his way down, thoroughly searching each one for another ghost. Finally, he spotted another spectral figure in the food court, sitting mournfully at a table in the corner—heart attack was his best guess as to their fate. He grabbed them, slung them over his shoulder, and marched back up the stairs to the place where he’d drawn his entry portal. He threw the protesting spirit into it and was just about to follow when something caught his eye. The door to one of the rooms across from him was ajar, and he could see into it. Hooked up to many beeping machines, a heart monitor going steadily in the background, was the comatose form of Lydia Deetz.

Beetlejuice couldn’t claim to know much about human medicine, after all the last time he paid attention to it was the Black Death. But something told him this wasn’t something humans did with a corpse. And that could only mean one thing.

Somehow, some way, Lydia Deetz was alive.

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

Lydia was rudely awoken from her slumber by the sensation of being grabbed by the shoulders and shaken violently. She spluttered awake and kicked the person shaking her, who turned out to be a white-haired Beetlejuice, in the leg. Taking quick note of her surroundings, she realized that someone, most likely Marlablair, had moved her and Vince out of the tree and into a pair of chairs in his office. The pale-faced boy was still sleeping soundly across from her, snugly wrapped in the fluffy towel he’d manifested.

“Beej, what the fuck was that for?” she asked groggily, rubbing her eyes. 

“You’re not dead, I think!?” he stammered in a panic.  _ That _ woke her up.

“I’m not  _ what _ ?!” she exclaimed, “How do you know? What does that mean?”

“Mrrp?” mumbled Vince, cracking one eye open by a sliver. Suddenly, Marlablair burst through the door with his scythe in hand. He realized that it was only Beetlejuice, and vanished the scythe.

“What in the Netherworld is going on in here? Why all the shouting?” he boomed. Lydia gestured irritably at Beej, replying “I have no idea, he just woke me up shouting about something; I couldn’t even understand what he was saying because I was half-asleep.”

Vince grumbled something unintelligible as he sat up straighter. Beetlejuice, hair still shocked white, tugged at the lapels of his suit anxiously when he realized everyone was looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to explain.

“I will start out by saying that I don’t know much about humans, but when I was in the hospital looking for that newly-dead, I found you. Well, not you, because your soul is here, obviously, and that’s the part of you that makes you...you. But I found your  _ body _ there and it was hooked up to a bunch of beeping shit. And I’m pretty sure that that isn’t what humans do for three-month-old corpses. It was in perfect condition too, not rotted or anything, which isn’t how corpses work. Lydia...I think you’re alive.”

Everyone was stunned into silence. 

“It would make some sense, wouldn’t it?” Lydia wondered aloud, “If I’m alive, that must be why I can’t use any cool ghost powers. Or why I set off the life detector thing even after Nora fixed it. And just a minute ago, Vince said he heard my heartbeat!”

Vince nodded at that, and stammered out, “But if her soul is here, how could her body still be alive out there somewhere?”

“There is a phenomenon, a very rare phenomenon,” Marlablair began, “where certain people who cling to life with a uncommon tenacity can get their souls knocked out of their bodies when undergoing a trauma that would kill a lesser human. I believe it was first noted in members of the Hopper family...ah, now isn’t the time for a history lesson. If she truly is a living soul, it is imperative she be returned to her body at once. Even if it’s being taken care of in a hospital, soulless bodies can’t keep going on their own forever. Beetlejuice, you need to get her out of here before her body gives out.” 

Beetlejuice nodded with confidence. Standing up shakily, Vince mustered his courage.

“I’m coming too. You have to let me say goodbye,” he said, his eyes almost pleading. Marlablair sighed dramatically. 

“Alright. You can see her off. Stay safe, the lot of you,” he said with an accusatory finger pointed at Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice saluted sarcastically and sheparded both children out of the office.

_ *** _

They made their way back to Customs and Processing without event, Beej in front, Lydia trailing behind, and Vince trailing at Lydia’s heels like a lost puppy. The three of them filed into a large and empty space near the other end of the waiting room and Beetlejuice got to work drawing a door with some chalk he’d summoned for this purpose. He stepped back to admire his handiwork, resting one elbow on Lydia’s shoulder. It was at this moment that a voice that sounded like sandpapered lung cancer wafted over them from behind.

“What do you think you’re doing, Lawrence?” Juno growled. Instantly, his hair flashed white and he froze, stiffening up like a board. 

“H-hiya, mom!” he replied all too chipperly, fear leaching into his voice. Lydia and Vince turned around slowly.

“Answer the question,” Juno replied with a forced smile, taking a puff of her cigarette. Beetlejuice chuckled nervously, patting Lydia on the shoulder.

“Well, it turns out that Lydia here isn’t actually dead. And living souls aren’t supposed to be here, that’s why we have the Anti-Orpheus, so I’m taking her back to her own plane of existence, like I’m suppos-”

“Once you go to the Netherworld, you don’t come back! That’s the rules, page 107, subsection A. She can’t leave!” Juno hissed. Vince poked his head out from behind Lydia and nervously added, “Actually, in subsection B, it states that subsection A is referring exclusively to the dead and overrides the previous section by stating that all living intruders are meant to be escorted-”

Juno held out a hand and telepathically knocked the boy to the ground.

“Shut up!” she shouted, furious at being contradicted, “I didn't care  _ what _ she is. I knew she wasn’t really dead all along, I just needed more workers around here so I took her anyway. Besides, she’s been here long enough that her soul’s tether will wither away any day now. And if not, just kill her, you miserable excuse for a demon!”

Beetlejuice blanched and Lydia glanced up at him with just the slightest bit of fear. Juno looked at both of them and growled, marching towards them threateningly.

“Alright then. You were always too weak to do what needed to be done. I’ll finish her off myself.”

Vince picked himself up and stepped protectively in front of Lydia. Squeezing his eyes shut, he shot a bolt of lightning at Juno, knocking the demoness back a few feet. She growled at him and, making a sweeping motion with her hand, violently threw him across the room like a ragdoll. He slammed into a wall with a sickening crack and went limp. Lydia cried out and reached for him but Beetlejuice, finally turning around to face his mother, stretched an arm out in front of the teen. He put himself in between Lydia and Juno, his hair slowly seeping from stark white to blazing red as he bared his teeth.

“Stay back, mom! With all your talk about the rules, you only care about them when they suit you. This girl is alive, and she’s going home! I don’t care what you do to me.”

Juno narrowed her eyes, throwing her cigarette to the ground and stamping on it with one high-heel shoe.

“Well, look at you,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “Finally standing up for yourself. Fine! You care about this useless human so much?”

Juno was suddenly bathed in blood red light, glowing with eldritch energy. Her voice echoed and boomed as she roared,  **“I’ll teach you to respect your elders, boy!”**

Beetlejuice gritted his teeth and crouched in preparation to pounce as Lydia’s eyes went wide.

Somewhere behind Juno, a female voice intoned, “Ma’am, I’d step away from them if I were you. All eyes turned to the newcomer on the scene, silhouetted against an open door that showed a view of an empty desert. Stepping forward, it became apparent that the figure was a woman with short, dark hair and a fearsome expression. Only Lydia recognised her, eyes lighting up.

“Mom!” she exclaimed.

  
  



	9. Chapter 9

Beetlejuice glanced from Lydia to the newcomer, noting that she was an almost perfect double, if much larger and more self-confident.

“Excuse me?” Juno hissed, “Who do you think you are?! This is Upper Management business, get out of here!”

“My name is Emily Deetz,” the other woman replied coolly, “And that is my daughter, which means this is my business. And I think you should get away from her.” 

It was at that moment that a sandworm burst through the door behind Emily, rearing up and screeching. Everyone but her jumped back, Beetlejuice scooping Lydia up to protect her from the ravenous beast that her mother had just unleashed. He ran across the room while Juno was distracted to snatch Vince and circle back around. In that time, Juno was quickly crushed in the sandworm’s coils and devoured by the beast, who settled down now that it had been fed. It coughed up a slimy high-heeled shoe and curled up. Lydia wrestled herself free of Beetlejuice’s arms and ran to her mother’s side, tackling her in a bear hug. 

“It’s you! It’s really you! You’re here!”

She buried her face into Emily’s shoulder, shuddering with sobs. 

“I missed you so much, but now you’re here,” Lydia said, tears streaming down her face as she looked up. Not really knowing what to do, the demon stood awkwardly off to one side, holding Vince until the boy stirred a few moments later. Beetlejuice patted him on the head and set him on his feet. Emily held her daughter close.

“Shh, you’re okay. You’re safe. I got you,” she whispered comfortingly.

Beetlejuice cleared his throat to get their attention.

“Hate to interrupt this heartfelt moment, I really do, but how the everloving  _ fuck _ did you tame a sandworm? I mean, it was totally awesome, you swooped in at just the right time to eat my mom, but  _ how _ ?”

“When we encountered a sandworm a few weeks ago, it was totally calm and friendly around Lydia. Maybe it runs in the family,” Vince suggested. Emily chuckled.

“I don’t really know. I suppose I’ve always had a way with snakes, I met Shai here soon after I tried to leave the hospital and I’ve been  making my way across Saturn like  Paul  Muad'Dib ever since. I only recently managed to decipher enough of the handbook to know I should find a door. Something...something told me I needed to find my way here. And good thing too, guess the Mom Instinct really does come in handy!” 

She stroked Lydia’s hair. Concern suddenly spread across her face and she looked down at her daughter. 

“Lydia…” she began, “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know what you—oh.”

Lydia froze. Vince winced, knowing what she was talking about. Beej quickly broke the silence by stammering, “Leaving! She was just leaving and going back to the world of the living! Right now.”

Lydia whirled around, eyes flashing with fury.

“No I’m not! I came here to find my mom, and now she’s here, and I’m sure as  _ hell _ not going back to being invisible with Dad!”

“Invisible? Lydia, what are you talking about?” Emily asked worriedly. 

“Kid, you  _ really really _ do have to go if you ever want to leave at all!” Beetlejuice added, his eyes darting about. Lydia clung to her mother, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

“I came here to find you, and I’m not going to just up and leave now that I've finally got you back. I don’t care what happens, and I definitely don’t care about Dad or Delia!”

“Delia? Who’s Delia? Lydia, pumpkin, talk to me,” Emily instisted, detaching Lydia’s grip on her arms and holding the little girl out at arms length. Lydia was sobbing now, tears streaming freely down her face.

“I wanted to be dead. Like you. So I...Mom, I’m so sorry-”

“No. Don’t you dare apologize—damn Charles, I tried to warn him about this—don’t you  _ dare _ apologize. Whatever you did wasn’t your fault. You’re gonna be okay.” 

“Uh, guys? Unless we get moving, like,  _ right now _ , she won’t be okay,” Beetlejuice frantically interjected. They both turned to face him, Lydia wiping her face with her sleeve. He anxiously tapped his claws together.

“Okay, so, um, you know what Mom was talking about a minute ago? Your ‘tether,’ how it was withering away? Yeah, that’s a real concern we should all be having. It’s sort of like in Greek mythology. All humans have a thread of life that connects their souls to their bodies that gets cut when they die, which is why they can’t return to the land of the living after crossing over. But since your soul is separate from your living body, you still have a tether guiding you back to it. Only the strings of fate tend to start fraying after a while, and it’s been like three months, so I—wait, here, let me check.”

He hovered a hand over her collarbone, focusing intently for a moment. There was a soft flash of purple light, and a faintly glowing violet thread appeared around her throat, floating like a halo. It was clearly fraying and Beetlejuice winced nervously.

“That’s not good. That’s the opposite of good. I hate to cut the reunion short, but we gotta get you home, kid.” 

Emily knelt down to Lydia’s height and stroked her hair.

“Young lady, you get out of here and go back to your body this instant. Tell your father to start listening to you or I’ll come back and haunt his ass. You can come back when your time is up. I’ll see you again.”

Lydia sniffled and tackled her into a tight hug. Letting go, she turned up towards Vince. He jumped to attention, going over a speech he must have prepared in his head on the walk over here.

“It was lovely to get to know you,” he began, but Lydia swiftly cut him off with a kiss. She pulled away and grinned at the petrified boy, standing speechless in place.

“I’ll miss you, Vince. Goodbye.”

Emily glanced between them. 

“Seems I’ve missed a lot,” she muttered to Beetlejuice.

“Yeah, no kidding,” he replied. Waving to get her attention, he beckoned Lydia over to the door. He opened it and escorted her through the blinding green glow. The door sealed closed from the other end.

  
  



	10. Chapter 10

When Lydia crossed through the door, she emerged into a hospital hallway, the sterile and cold white tile reminding her of the Netherworld’s barren tunnels a little too much. The frayed floating tether around her throat now had another thread attached to it, leading off through the hallway. Beetlejuice nudged her in the shoulder.

“Well, we don’t have all day. Follow it.”

“Follow the floating transparent soul string around my neck? I can’t believe I just said that in a serious sentence, goddamn my life is getting weird.” 

He laughed and clapped her on the back.

“Ah, trust me kid, it gets weirder. But c’mon, we gotta keep moving.”

She followed the string down the hallway and up several flights of stairs. As she crossed through a hallway towards a room with an ajar door, slumped in a chair, she spotted her father with his head in his hands. He was alone and sobbing. She paused at the sight of him and Beetlejuice followed her gaze.

“That dude was here last time, when I first spotted you. Doesn’t look like he’s moved. Do you recognize him?”

“That’s my dad.” She seemed almost surprised he was here.

“Oh. Well, he can’t see or feel either of us, so the only thing you can do now is go back to your body. You haven’t used it in a while, so your muscles are probably all wasting away as we speak. Go on, get.”

With one last lingering gaze at Charles, she walked into the room and saw herself.

Her soul had stayed exactly the same as the moment it was knocked out of her body, so it was just as it had always been. But without her in it, hooked up to all those machines, her body had never looked so small. Sensing her worry, Beetlejuice gently patted her on the head.

“I’m gonna miss you a lot, kid, but you’ll get back to us in your own time. And no more parachuteless skydiving trips, okay?” he joked, trying to lighten the mood. Lydia tackled him in a breathless hug.

“Take care of everybody, especially Vince. I love you guys. I wish I could bring you back here with me,” she insisted. Beetlejuice smiled sadly.

“See you later, kid. Much, much later.” 

She took a step back, her ghostly hand brushing against her real, dangling arm. Her eyes suddenly widened as her soul’s tether yanked taunt, and Lydia Deetz woke up.

_***_

_End_

_***_


End file.
